


Innumerable Times More

by alexenglish



Series: Tumblr Fic [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Reincarnation, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 19:44:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3621948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexenglish/pseuds/alexenglish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You don’t forget eyes like that, not even over the course of lifetimes,” Stiles says, biting his bottom lip. Eyes like a glistening lake in the dead of summer with star bursts of gold that fracture the iris. Stained glass windows of glorious beauty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Innumerable Times More

**Author's Note:**

> [prompt list](http://queenkairi.co.vu/post/113662145321/some-reincarnation-aus): I fell in love with you three lifetimes ago and I’ve been looking for you ever since but I’ve been starting to give up and my friend’s new crush has your eyes and oh god I’m not going to steal someone’s date just because I’m hoping you’re the person I met in a past life (jk yes I am)

“Stiles, what are you doing?” Scott asks, hissing and pulling his arm away. Stiles’ hand stays posed in midair, making a grabbing motion. He’s awestruck. Completely and totally stricken with _awe_. It’s amazing that Stiles is even standing right now with how his heart is fluttering in his chest. He’s _dizzy_.

So, Scott got set up on a date and Stiles went to scope them out because duh, he’s not going to let Scott go out with someone who’s like super mean or anything. Anyway, Scott’s blind date, indicated by a rose on the coffee table, totally _not_ at all intended for Stiles. Is — It’s —

“It’s _them_ ,” Stiles says, exhaling out in a rush. He knows he probably looks crazy, wide eyes and flushed, breathing hard for absolutely no reason besides excitement. While he’s been waiting for Scott to get there, he’s been shoving his hands through his hair in frustration. It’s probably standing on end, adding to that deranged aesthetic that he has going on. “It’s them! I mean, I saw their eyes and they’re like — Wow, they’re like wow, like they —” 

Always have been, but half-faded memories don’t do the color justice. Stiles got a brief look and he could wax poetic about them for the rest of the day.

“They’re amazing, but not just their eyes, just their entire face and everything,” Stiles continues, still ignoring Scott’s bewildered look. Maybe if he steamrolls over Scott, Scott will — Oh god —

“Switch me!” Stiles says, dragging off his shirt. Scott takes it when it’s thrust into his hands, mystified. “Oh wait —” Stiles grabs it back and the jerks the hem of Scott’s shirt. It’s a blessing that Scott just _lets_ him molest him in the alley way without demanding answers first. God bless, Scott McCall.

“Start from the beginning,” Scott says, blinking his like an owl once he’s in Stiles’ shirt and Stiles is in his. White with a striped pocket, the identifier for the blind date. 

“The person, your blind date — dude looking, by the way, but you can never be _too sure_ , points for bisexual Scott — it’s _them_ ,” Stiles says. 

“Them?” Scott asks, with a frown. Realization blossoms over his features like he’s been struck by lightning. “ _Them_ them? Stiles!” 

“Yes, _them_ them, oh my god.”

“Wait, how do you know?” Scott asks, peering around Stiles to look through the glass of the coffee shop. Stiles grabs him and pulls him back. Switching shirts off the side of the building was obvious enough, they don’t need to bring even more attention to the whole thing.

“You don’t forget eyes like that, not even over the course of _lifetimes,_ ” Stiles says, biting his bottom lip. Eyes like a glistening lake in the dead of summer with star bursts of gold that fracture the iris. Stained glass windows of glorious beauty. 

Scott gives him a skeptical look, but shrugs.

“Are you just saying this so you can steal my date?” Scott asks. “Jesus, how hot are they?”

“Hotter than Apollo’s chariot,” Stiles says, honestly. “Muscular with a beard, kind of hairy, but I’m into that.” Stiles is into anything when it comes to them. Him? Them, him, whatever. They’ve had a vagina in a couple of past lives, so it’s all up the air, really. Stiles tries not to pinhole them into a specific gender right off the bat.

“Okay, so how do you know?” Scott asks, again. 

“The _eyes_ ,” Stiles says, throwing up his hands. Scott looks like he’s about to argue — Scott doesn’t exactly believe him about the whole past-lives thing yet. They’ve had multiple discussions about it. In some lifetimes people remember and in other lifetimes, they’re ignorant of the whole thing. In this lifetime, Scott has _no idea_ and Stiles just doesn’t have time for that sort of thing. 

Especially, not when he spots their leather jacket exiting the coffee shop and _stomping away_. They’re leaving. Stiles shoots off, grabbing at their sleeve before they’ve gotten too far. When they turn, their eyebrows are pulled down in a frown.

Stiles opens his mouth to speak and nothing, absolutely nothing comes out. His airway is stopped up with nerves, palms sweaty. He’s _not talking_ like a giant creeper and they’re just staring —

“What?” they ask, voice a lot more grumpy than Stiles was expecting. It melts down Stiles’ spine nonetheless. Stiles drops their sleeve and moves his mouth, trying to get it to work. If anything, their glare gets more intense. “Look, I saw you switch shirts. If this Scott guy doesn’t actually want a date with me, it’s fine. I don’t need a pity date from you on top of it.”

“Wha —”

They jab the striped pocket, Scott’s shirt, _right_ , shit.

“Were you going to pretend to be him? Let me call you by the wrong name all night long?” 

“Oh my god, no,” Stiles says, looking behind him. Scott’s a safe distance away, watching them with trepidation. Their eyes flick to Scott and then, look back to Stiles quickly. Stiles watches in fascination as their cheeks get red. “Well, yes, but not because he wanted to ditch you! I just wanted to take his place!”

That’s not helping.

“I mean, I _needed_ to take his place,” Stiles tries. They’re looking more and more skeptical of the situation as he keeps talking. “I wanted to — He’s not opposed to dating you —”

“No, I would totally date you, you’re smoking, dude!”

“Thanks, Scott — But, I specifically needed to — Oh my god.”

This is not going in any good direction.

“Is this a set up?” they ask, beautiful, polished jade eyes darting between Scott and Stiles. Stiles probably seems _mental_. 

“No, no,” Stiles says, quickly. “Oh, fuck this —”

Stiles tries to do it more like a surprise kiss and not an _assault._ He puts his hands on the sides of their face, the stubble is so much softer than expected, and steers their face towards his, eyes carefully locked. There’s no pulling away or protest, so Stiles presses their lips together. 

The results are immediate. Stiles’ heart pounds in his chest as Derek, _Derek_ , kisses him back, hands fisting in the back of his shirt. Three lifetimes worth of memories flood through the both of them.

In this lifetime, Derek has two cats and shares a loft with his younger sister. He’s works at an Amazon warehouse on the west side of town and absolutely loathes tomatoes. He reads classic literature, drinks too much coffee, hates everyone at his work. There’s a train by his loft that wakes him up on Wednesdays and he can’t get Cora to take her shoes off in the house. 

Memories from before are there, too. Memories of the last time they saw each other, when Derek was an Elizabeth and Stiles was a James and they were saying their farewells, young and in love. Stolen kisses before James went to war, before James died prematurely. Memories from before that when they were on a ship together in the Caribbean, adventure after adventure and _so_ in love. 

They keep kissing, pulling every missed moment out of each other. Every press of their lips sends a new memory to Stiles. They taste like summer and sea salt, hope and dreams of love, pure happiness. Derek playing baseball, Derek practicing law, Derek in every situation as multiple people. Too many lifetimes without Stiles, entirely too many.

“Stiles,” Derek says, when they pull apart. Stiles’ heart clenches almost painfully when he hears his name. Nerves tumble through him, but he knows none of that matters. They know each other, they’ve _known_ each other. 

“I found you at last.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!


End file.
